


A Waltz Playing Frozen in Time

by glamorouspixels



Category: Miss Fisher and the Crypt of Tears (2020), Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Established Phrack, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Gentleness, New Relationship, Skinny Dipping, Touching, in a spring in the desert, smutty fluff?, smutty touching but like...it's not really smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:06:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25378870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glamorouspixels/pseuds/glamorouspixels
Summary: Phryne and Jack are tired after a long trek on the camel. A spring in the desert provides the perfect opportunity for a break.
Relationships: Phryne Fisher/Jack Robinson
Comments: 14
Kudos: 95





	A Waltz Playing Frozen in Time

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a little something while I'm working on about ten million longer fics! The title is from _Beam Me Up_ by P!nk, and shoutout to acrazyobsession for the beta, and to Arlome for answering my stupid questions about the desert. All remaining inaccuracies are my fault ;)

The first sign of Phryne’s fatigue was a little forward slump, the ridge of her spine slowly curving. Next came a theatrical groan that would have startled him, had he not been clinging on for dear life. As the subject of his clasp turned to jelly in Jack’s arms, holding on – already a troublesome endeavor – came pretty near impossible.

There was no denying it: Phryne Fisher was drained, tired, skirting the edge of welcome insanity, and that the vastness of the rock didn’t part to let them through made him fear the worst. There was barren desert wherever they looked, wrapped in washed-out white on the horizon, and probably reaching on for miles beyond. Harsh sunlight chiseled the slabs of stone and draped them both without hesitation, gluing layers of fabric to their heated skin.

Jack touched a hand to the richness of her robes, patting the sheets of heated silk in sympathy. “Careful, now,” he gently murmured, having determined that speaking was advisable. But he appeared to have misjudged the severity of her state, for Phryne gave a deeper sigh and attempted to stretch back against Jack and the moving camel, coming only nearer to his sticky skin.

“Oh, there’s time for careful when I’m dead,” she retorted, disdain tearing her voice to shreds. “I’m extraordinarily sore, Jack.” That actually made him chuckle, a secret sound smothered by the apple of her cheek, which was presented to him as she let her head flop backward. She wriggled her legs rather scornfully, and the notion wedged her even nearer to his front so they were lined up from shoulder to groin.

“From last night?” It had yet to settle in that said night had been real, but the smattering of bruises on the inside of his thigh that she was pressed against – not to speak of his own aching muscles and the simple fact that he had her close – were ready reminders of its genuineness.

“Among other things,” said Phryne, grinning. She reached over her silk-clad shoulder to map a finger across the seam of his lips. “I think the riding hasn’t done me any good.”

“I’m glad you cleared that up,” Jack responded dryly and looped his arm around the dip of her waist, now knowing the fragile skin that lay hidden beneath the fabric. Her words were a statement of such honest contemplation, Jack couldn't seem to mind her slackened state; though he did feel for their poor camel.

“What I need now,” she went on, “is a nice, long soak in my clawfoot bathtub.”

“Am I invited?” Jack asked weakly, only half-jokingly, but his question got no trace of a reply except the tightening of her hand over his own on her belly. What shocked him more, she sat up straight like she hadn’t in hours.

“Look, Jack, over there!” One confident finger pointed onwards, where it drew a circle around a crack in the stone. At its insides was a smear of green, made paler by its distance but evident.

“What’s that?” He drew upright to get a better look, and settling his head on Phryne’s shoulder allowed him to catch the weighted look she shot his way. He mainly felt it, brushing close against her warm soft cheek.

“Vegetation, by the look of it.”

“In the middle of the desert?” The wide-reaching gap was fast approaching; with it came the entrance to a path, cut off at the sides by walls that reached ever higher, framing a tumble into the stone.

“Yes, darling,” Phryne grinned, but she raised herself up in his arms and stiffened, again making him maintain the balance for the both of them. Jack groaned; though he couldn’t get enough of the feel of her, the slide of her body against his heated skin, there were better places than atop a camel for this particular pursuit.

“I wonder if…” And that was it for the gift of her touch. She shifted forward, not to lean away but encouraging their camel to sit, lovingly rubbing Jack with her silk-covered arse and a thoroughness that stole his breath away.

“Miss Fisher?” He found his mind to be terribly blank but for the shameful little moan that had sprung from him.

In the next instant, she was off, making a dash for the mountain’s cradle. Phryne stood framed by the soaring rocks, a mark to the start of the narrow canyon. She minutely raised her chin, a near-invisible come-hither to this still new and adventurous side of him.

It took a serene tilt of her face into a ray of sunlight, and Jack thought back, rather dazedly, to the soft gold specks that had touched her eyes in climax – the same eyes that were reading him now, but were inflamed instead with a glamour of wickedness.

“Are you coming?” Phryne called out before she turned around and into the pathway. A few steps down, she lingered as Jack rose and tied down the camel. Her hand, as he joined her, slipped into his with not a tinge of hesitation, though neither knew of the other’s thundering heart.

Their way through the stones was a pleasant one, though the canyon tightened before it opened up again. They traded tender smiles and even softer kisses whenever overtaken by the need to be close, with the morning sun above them and cliffs all around. Only when they swayed from wanting did they go on – when being apart was the only way forward.

A mere twenty minutes later, their hike was done. The slim path opened to a hollow in the rocks, where a pool of blue-green had wedged itself between the mountains. Phryne stopped, pulling up short at the water’s edge. She used the tangle of their hands to draw him flush against her, the two of them against the surface of perfect glass.

“A desert spring! Jack, we simply  _ have  _ to go in,” she said, spinning in his arms and mouthing a tingly line down his jaw like a promise. The little taste of her tongue there made his blood spike hot; it gave even the balmy water a freezing appearance. “It’s perfect!”

It really was; sunlight rained down from above, as did a slender trail of water from a dip in the stones. There was no roar, no white pour where the stream hit the surface – only enticing peacefulness. The pool was a magic mirror, and nothing appealed more than bathing with her.

Had there been any lingering doubt, it would’ve been no more as Phryne stepped away – leaving Jack to feel bereft at the loss of their connection – and undressed. It was as simple as that. Heaps of silk, whole curtains of the lush material, draped the polished stone on which they were standing before she effortlessly slipped into the diamond depths.

Phryne didn’t stop until she reached the back end, the tiny trickle of the waterfall. The stones there were darker, interspersed with more green where the rock was hit by the caress of the water. 

Jack watched her, beginning as well to disrobe but too enthralled to make much progress. Shaky hands teased at the edge of his shirt, but the effort rested forgotten; he merely skimmed a hand down his firm stomach while his eyes remained fixed on the form of her.

This was a sight he wouldn’t forget, but one he’d sooner believe a desert mirage than his new reality. An image that, months ago, would have been trailed by wary touches as he chased the fragments of his thoughts into waking. Or, a few weeks later, the bubbling of relentless tears if such a dream had followed her departure and the news of her death.

Phryne was in up to her ribs, and the clear water murmured against the softness of her skin; she was gleaming alabaster against the mountain’s bronze stretch. Her expression looked serene, all closed eyes and lips parted in calmness, while the warm water traced her with exploring rivulets. Gentle fingers skimmed her hair, stroking it to spread the dampness from the waterfall.

He saw the slender curves of her upturned breasts, drawn smaller and taut by the movement skyward, and Phryne’s pink puffy nipples, flushing under the water’s soft and soothing licks. Now that he was naked, Jack’s hands whispered at his cock’s needy length, sending rippling heat down the line of his body as he attempted from habit to escape her pull.

But he could do more than stand and watch; there was no need to withstand the enchantment of her body, although being nude came as a first relief. He made it halfway in, making the same leisurely glides as Phryne as his straining muscles came unwound. Then he spun and studied the pool from the lower angle, seeing walls of quiet that somehow felt soothing.

His distraction was a misstep easily fixed, and Phryne readily appeared to take on the task. “Penny for your thoughts?” She asked, making herself a warm weight against the side of him. Spinning her – an effortless deed in the water – Jack settled his hands on the curves of her hips.

He prepared for an honest response, probing at words for their truthfulness, as Phryne’s hands cupped water down the length of his body. She was soothing the parts of him still dry with a softened gaze beyond the wildest of his dreams, for further support knotting their legs together.

“It’s strange,” Jack began, lightly shaking his head as his eyes flickered to nowhere, “that I get whisked away – all unwillingly, and to the desert, of all places – to assist you on a case.” He gathered her confusion from the furrow in her brow, yet the handfuls of warmth continued to cover him.

“How come,” he marveled on, his hushed tone nearly lost beneath the water’s drops, “that I find myself not wanting to leave? And then that damned letter finds you in the middle of nowhere.”

Of course, it was then that some water dribbled down his face, carelessly released when she wrapped him in her arms. He was left sputtering as Phryne held him, in the middle of a pool in a faraway desert, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Jack caught a hint of her natural scent and felt the pressure of her breasts and belly, and he didn’t bother to hide his little sniffle. Briefly, he wondered at the chances of bursting from love alone.

“Not strange at all,” she was whispering now. “Though I dare say I found you rather willing. Naturally, we’re going to have to investigate, if it  _ is  _ a murder. But, if I’m not completely mistaken, the Maharaja wishes to remain unfound.” She had never addressed him with such gentle care, nor while her thumb drew circles on his cheek.

Jack had trouble keeping his eyes open. “How do you know?”

“I told him about you. About my…”

“Your…?” Wickedly diverting his attention, Phryne nipped lightly at his sensitive earlobe, even whispering her tongue against the shell of his ear.

“My handsome detective back in Melbourne?” She relished his tight grasp on her as Jack tried not to tremble, and it was her turn to close her eyes when a soft kiss came against the skin of her cheek. “If he were to...mysteriously vanish off the face of the earth, for one reason or another, I wanted him to know that I’d be cared for.”

“That’s a tough position to uphold,” he murmured, “taking care of you.” Next was a peck on the tip of her nose, two more light brushes of his lips over the lines at the corners of her eyes. Tears pricked her eyes at the tenderness of it, making her fear she was coming apart and letting Jack’s loving touch piece her back together. All the while, Jack neatened her tangled fringe with the tips of his fingers.

“So far, you’ve been doing excellently,” she breathed with her hand on the side of her neck, pressing the bruise he’d left the night before.

“And it’s not that hard, is it? To get on my plane and fly out here for a nice little holiday. We could come back next year, and make a celebration of our anniversary. That is… If you wish to continue our waltz?”

He became more and more stunned as her words unfurled, at once a balm and a blow to his heart in splinters. “Phryne, you know I do.”

Jack grasped her soft hand and felt her cup his bicep with the free one. He whirled her gently to the water’s thin trickling, forcing all reason from Phryne’s head.

It was a bond of such immeasurable depth – spinning together to inaudible music as her feet never once touched down. Moving them around made the mountain wall come nearer; Jack lifted her up onto a tiny ledge to bring her in line with his teary face. He ducked his head to brush it on her breasts’ smooth contours, nearly floating away on the sound of her mewl.

Her hand on his neck remained in place, even when he rose and catalogued her closely, afraid she might fade if he let her go. “But what I don’t wish,” murmured Jack with a smile upon bringing a hand to the soaking hair between her thighs, the thick curls of which he absently rubbed between his fingers, “is for us to spend another month airborne, in the tightness of your little plane. And neither, I’m sure, does the Commissioner.”

Phryne gave a disturbed little noise, which rose in pitch into a sigh of pleasure. “I’m afraid we’ll have to make the most of our current predicament,” he concluded, just as she desperately arched to meet the hand on her mound.

“That’s...not what you’re doing right now? The most?” Her fingers fondled his at the apex of her thighs, coming away drenched with her scented moisture. Jack closed his eyes, groaning, and let her paint and mark his cheek with her readiness for him. He knew to hold still so as not to startle her and grant them both the silence of worship. 

It was like a dream – or better, infinitely sharper for the realness of it. For where he’d pictured the smoothness of a goddess, he knew now that silvery-white lines snaked her hips and the insides of her thighs, and the sprinkle of a birthmark sat on her pale lower back.

“Well, Miss Fisher… You’ll find I’m a firm believer in the power of improvement.” As she wrapped her thighs around the trimness of his waist, Jack met her moist lips in the gentlest caress, certain that even the sun was weeping, watching as she changed his world with the tip of her tongue.

**Author's Note:**

> The M rating confuses me so I wanted to write something specifically to fit it, and I thought I should have at least one fic per rating now that I've been doing this for a year. Admittedly, I still don't know how well this fits 😂 But thank you for reading! <3


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